The Hiss of a Serpent
by xXx-Voldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXx
Summary: When Clarice Hanson's parents are taken away for a crime they didn't commit, she's taken to the orphanage that the intimidating Tom Riddle lives at.  When Clarice finds that he's the reason she's there, does she continue to trust him?  In Tom's POV.  R&R?
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So this is my second fan fiction, and I apologize for abandoning my last one (The Prince's Captain), but that's just for the time being. I'll be uploading more for that. Anyway, the idea for this one came to me after I bought the first half of the seventh movie, because I got Salazar Slytherin's locket with it, so yeah. I'm not bragging. But seriously, I hope it's going to be good. It's a romance between Tom Riddle Jr. and an OC. It's my OC from www. hexrpg. Com (take out spaces there and you can add me or RP with me: IAmAFizzingWhizbee). I'm going to try and make it as dark as possible, and really interesting. Clarice is my OC and she's been sent to the same orphanage as Tom for the time being but you'll find out why later on. I really hope you like it and I wanted to write it in Tom's point of view so I wrote the prologue to kind of get the fact that she's in the orphanage with him, but yeah it will make more sense later so just read it! Thanks and I hope you enjoy! XOXO, xXxVoldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXx

The Hiss of a Serpent

Prologue

The wind was just a roar in her ears, the rain falling like that of a translucent sheet in front of her. The woman beside her dug in an over-sized purse for that Clarice hoped was an umbrella. The storm would only get worse from there, and she was sure the orphanage was still a few blocks away. A shiver ran through her body, causing her to bring the thin jacket tighter around her body. Glancing up at the woman, who's name had been long forgotten in all that had happened, stared straight ahead.

"I've forgotten the brolli in my office," she said with sigh. "But it isn't far now. You can change into some dry clothes when we get there." Clarice nodded. She didn't trust herself to say anything, for fear that her teeth would start chattering. She squinted her eyes for any sign of the orphanage in the distance, but even the houses across the street were proving difficult to see.

A car drove past them, the water it sprayed missing them by inches. Clarice shivered and looked down at the wet sidewalk. How far wasn't far to ... was it Mrs. Cole? Given the amount of events that had happened in the past week and a half, Clarice hadn't made remembering the matron's name a top priority. She'd remember it some how, or sneak the question in one way or another.

After what felt like years of trekking through the cold wind and rain, they arrived at the gate of Wool's Orphanage. The gate was a tall, wrought iron door with a pad-lock over the handle. The vine, crawling and weaving its way through the rungs reminded Clarice of snakes. For a moment, she imagined them moving and the leaves turned into hissing, tongue-flicking snake heads that seemed to follow her every move. Blinking a few times, Clarice mentally erased the image her mind had conjured, and followed Mrs. If-Her-Real-Name-Is-Cole up a cobble stone footpath and to a tall wooden door.

"Here we are," the woman said and pulled the heavy-looking door open. She walked through and ushered Clarice inside. "Come, out of the cold. You can dry off and then come down for some warm soup." Stepping inside, Clarice heard the echo of the door closing behind her. She already felt out of place: the room she stood in looked up at three flights of wooden stairs. They were the colour of damp wood, and a dim chandelier hung over top of her head, suspended by an old rusting chain. Clarice noticed that about four bulbs were burnt out. How dark did this place get on a night, let alone a rainy day? She wondered vaguely if the other children turned into demons or vampires and such at night. Despite the image of being brutally attacked that entered her mine, Clarice was positive that it was just nerves. Being in this place now was scarier than ever.

"I'll show you to your room and you can change. Then come down for some soup and after, we'll get you sorted." Clarice jumped and turned to see the matron standing directly behind her.

"Right," she said. She followed the woman up the rickety stair case, each creak and groan of protest rebounding off the walls. Outside there was a crack of thunder, and the dim building suddenly lit up with lightning. Downstairs, Clarice heard a door open and slam shut with the scuffling of feet and children giggling and shrieking. The matron seemed not to notice. Either that or children making noise like that was a regular occurrence. This woman didn't seem particularly strict.

"You'll be right here." Clarice was led into a fair sized room with a large window over-looking a small playground in the back of the orphanage. On either side of the window hung two cream-coloured curtains made out of lace with a solid purple curtain stitched to the back of each. A twin-sized bed sat in the corner of the room, made up with thick purple blankets and a single white pillow. There was a lamp on the wooden night table beside the bed, and an old, thin brown throw rug under a tall dark wardrobe at the end of the bed. It was nice, she supposed, for such an old orphanage.

"You can rearrange the furniture as much as you like, and if you get lost, Tom is right across the hall." Clarice froze in the midst of placing her suitcase down. That name, though as common as it was, sounded familiar to her. And the fact that this Tom lived in an orphanage made it even more questionable. Clarice was soon brought out of her thoughts by the woman's next words:

"I'll leave you to dry off and change. Then come down for dinner." She turned to go, but Clarice was quick to stop her.

"Mrs. ... Cole?" She bit her lip and hoped she had got her name right.

"Yes dear?"

"Where do I put my wet clothes?" Apparently she'd gotten it correct.

"Just hang them on the back of the door, and I'll collect them later." Clarice nodded and Mrs. Cole turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Clarice stood for a moment, surveying her new surroundings with a certain dismay, knowing that it was going to take her a while to get used to them. It could have been months before she saw her parents again, and even then she wondered.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** R&R? I'd really appreciate it! Tell my what you think, and thanks, and I hope you enjoyed this and I'll have the first chapter up by next Wednesday or so I hope and yeah thanks. XOXO 


	2. 1  Epitome of Stupidity

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! Fist and foremost, I'd like to apologize for the late update. I tend to become lazy when I don' have ideas and wait until I get one instead of brainstorming... However, ideas DO like reviews ... it's like their food ... so please feed them ;) Also, I think it's only polite of my to inform you that I have decided to write this story in Clarice's P.O.V. I wrote this chapter in Tom's perspective, but it ended up being way too long, so I rewrote. I hope you like it all the same. Anyway, that's enough of my rambling ... please read on and enjoy thanks!**

~SsS~

Chapter One

Epitome of Stupidity

When the orphanage wasn't filled with the screams or sounds of laughter, it was silent, except for the creaks and groans of the old building. I had been here two weeks and already figured out that Mrs. Cole had a schedule: wake up all children, feed us breakfast, and then the little ones out for an afternoon. I was always invited, but I never went. I didn't have any Muggle money, and I'd need to save the little money my parents had given me for Diagon Alley before they were taken away. It had happened just this past April, when I was still in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had relayed a message to me, informing me that my parents had been taken to Azkaban for the murder of a Muggle family. As a family of Slytherins, one might have been inclined to believe this was true. But I knew my parents, and I knew this wasn't true. Not in the least bit. It remained a mystery to me how they had been found "guilty" when we had nothing over Muggles. In fact, I found them quite fascinating...

I stood at the window and watched a long line of children follow Mrs. Cole to a bookstore she was taking them to this afternoon. A hazy cloud drifted past the sun the was beaming down onto their heads, probably making them wish she had taken them to a lake or something instead. I pulled the blinds of my window down and glared at the ground. Had I been at my house in Westminster, I would probably be out doing something more productive than sitting here reading all day. I enjoyed books, but staring at page after page, day after day got a little overwhelming after a while, and I was running out of things to read anyway. Often times, I found myself wondering why I couldn't have just stayed with a friend, or a cousin. Or both. I mean, my good friend Tonia constituted as both, when I thought about it. Our parents were close, and we were practically related. Sometimes, people would say we looked alike: blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. Of course, Tonia was the slimmer out of us two, and the taller one, as well. I was ... not so tall, but not so shot either, and in the middle when it came to weight. I couldn't reach her here, either. Mrs. Cole only knew I attended a boarding school for ten months of the year, and nothing more. If she saw me sending messages to people with a pet owl (one I had to give up, by the way. Poor Catriona didn't know what to do when I gave her back to Eeylop's Owl Emporium. The man that worked there had offered to take care of her for the summer and return her to me for the school year, but I didn't see the point in that; I had no one to owl now, and I though it would be too confusing for the bird), I'm sure she would have taken me to the doctor or told Mr. Dumbledore, as she called him, to come get me. But little did she know I wasn't the only person of magical importance here: a boy in my same year and house slept right across the hall from me. Tom Riddle. And he, by far, was her favourite orphan. She was always asking him for help in the kitchen, or requiring him to repair something. He wasn't half bad at these things, either, considering he was one of the most Muggle-hating students at Hogwarts. But given the fact that I knew he had come from here, lived with Muggles for eleven years of his life, I shouldn't have expected anything different from him. He was a sour boy. A sour boy whom, I understood, to make up his own spells in his spare time. One day, when Mrs. Cole had asked me for help with the laundry, I had walked through his door, not bothering to knock because he was never doing anything different anyway, and saw him waving his wand about above his head, sending multi-coloured sparks everywhere with a book laying across his chest. I hadn't caught the title, but I assumed it must be something to do with Dark Magic, knowing him. I had six more weeks of this, and then I could return to normal. Well, almost normal.

I decided that I should start on cleaning my room like Mrs. Cole had implied earlier that morning. I looked around and noticed that I had a few books laying open or out of place, and a shirt strung over the back of a chair. My bed was unmade too. I usually didn't have to do this. At home, we had a house elf. His name was Piper, and he was extremely good about keeping the house in order. An excellent cook, too, he was. But I didn't have him now. He was still at home, probably with nothing to do. The house was empty except for the ruined furniture, courtesy of the Aurors that had invaded our house. I hadn't been able to really to take a look around. The Auror that had taken me to collect my things was a right wanker. Rushed me so much that I forgot to grab a few special items I would have liked to repair with a simple charm. Piper had probably gone around and done all that, though. Did House Elves go bonkers when on their own? He talked to himself enough as it was when we were home...

I got on cleaning my room right away, and soon there was nothing else for me to do. My stomach let out a growl and I blushed involuntarily. No one was around, but the noise always made me feel silly. My mother used to tell me that when that happened, a baby dragon had made my stomach its new home. For some reason, this used to always make me laugh, but when I looked back on it now, the memory made my throat constrict and my eyes burn with tears. I wondered just how long my parents would be in Azkaban for, and if they would ever come back the same. I pondered for a moment before making my way down the rickety staircase and to the kitchen. No one was there, so I decided it would be fine if I just opened the cupboards to see what food there was. I looked through it, finding things like peanut butter and strawberry jam, cans of fish and other things I had never really tried. I decided the peanut butter and jam sounded normal, but it wasn't anything I had eaten before. I picked both jars and up and placed them on the counter, wondering what to do next. I stood there and bit my lip, feeling rather dumb. This was Muggle food, and I had no idea what went with it.

"The bread is in that wooden box by the sink." The low voice caused me to whip around, the feeling of surprise coursing through my body. My eyes landed on Tom leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. He wore his usual I'm-better-than-you-are-and-I-hate-Muggles look. Tonia often commented on his looks, and expressed that she found him Peevishly handsome. I found him exceedingly arrogant. He pointed behind me, and I peered over my shoulder to the box he had mentioned.

"Oh," I said, my voice hoarse and cheeks burning. I turned so I wasn't facing him and reached to get the bread out, and tried to make myself seem busy with taking it out of the bag. I heard a low chuckle and the sound of him walking over to me. A pale, long-fingered hand reached out and took the bread from me.

"Peanut butter," he muttered as he reached into the drawer below him and took out a knife, "and jam go on bread. It's a type of sandwich." I shrugged.

"I knew that," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. He raised both eyebrows and stayed silent as he spread the peanut butter on one side of slice on bread, and the jam on the other. Then he stuck them together, grabbed a place and placed it in the middle before cutting them into two equal halves.

"Maybe next time stick to something you know... Here." He pushed the plate toward me and began making himself a sandwich, only forgetting the jam.

"Thanks," I mumbled and looked at the sandwich. I wasn't one who usually tried new foods ... and this didn't look entirely appetizing.

"Now, you eat it," I heard him say like he was talking to a child. I glared at him and picked one half of the sandwich up. I stared at it before taking a small bite. I chewed, and swallowed, debating on whether or not I liked the sweet and salty taste. It was okay, I supposed, but I didn't think it was something I would eat ever again by choice. Tom smirked at me before taking his plate and a glass of water he had poured himself to the table. I followed, feeling strangely out of place by the counter.

"You don't have to eat it," he said to me in a bored tone of voice, raising his glass to his mouth and taking a sip. I shrugged and took another small bite. It actually tasted kind of good. Muggle food was strange. I ate my sandwich in silence, pretending that Tom wasn't staring at me the whole time. I fidgeted in my seat; uncrossing and crossing my legs, sitting up straight and bouncing one leg in an attempt to distract myself. Finally, I gave up.

"Do you need something?" I asked when I was done my sandwich. He finishing his water, but a smirk appeared on his face as he set his glass down.

"Not from you," he answered. I glared at his insult and stood, picking up my plate.

"Well next time, take a picture, it lasts longer." I pushed my chair in and walked back to the counter. I washed my plate off and then grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and leaned against the cupboards as I drank from it. Peanut butter ... That was something to make you thirsty...

I saw Tom get up from his seat and I watched as he walked toward me, cleaning off his plate and cup.

"Now who needs the picture?" he commented, shooting me a side-ways glance. I blushed and looked down. Oops, I hadn't meant to stare. I stayed quiet, not having a response, and this seemed to satisfy him. He turned off the tap and dried his hands on the towel hanging on the wall. Then he turned to me and placed me with the same penetrating stare as when we were eating.

"No, seriously, it's still you," I snapped, rolling my eyes. Why was he such a freak?

"Ouch, Hanson, that hurts." I smiled sarcastically at him and then made my way around him. He stopped my by sticking out an arm, blocking my way.

"Ugh, what, Riddle? Honestly, if you need something, tell me, and I'll get you the necessary help you require."

"You're killing me," he said in mock pain.

"Awh, well, I make sure people attend your funeral ... Now, will you let me through? I have ... stuff to do." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Your room seemed pretty well cleaned to me," he said, smirking as my eyes widened in horror.

"What were you doing in my room?" I shrieked, glaring daggers at him. His smirk stayed in place and he pointed up the stairs.

"Close your door next time. I wasn't _in _your room. I do hope you know I sleep right across from you, and catching a quick glance when the door is _open _is pretty inevitable when I face it every time I come downstairs." He moved his arm and crossed both over his chest, clearly expecting an apology or something. He wouldn't get it.

"Oh, well next time close your eyes." I heard him chuckle.

"Close your door. It will save me a fall down the stairs. ... Anyway, I actually had a question for you..."

"I figured that much, Riddle. What is it?" I was getting a little tired of this already, and this was the most we had ever talked.

"Are you planning on going to Diagon Alley?" I nodded, giving him a look of pure distaste. Of course - just not right away. How else would I get my school supplies? He continued, unfazed by glare. "Well, would you consider coming with me?"

"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. Riddle was known for his sneaky little tricks. Who knew which ones he had up his sleeves for someone like me, a "Muggle-lover".

"Well I thought that if the two of us went, we could get out of the awkward conversation with Mrs. Cole. She usually wants to come with me, but I always have to make up some excuse that I like to alone..." He glanced down and examined his nails before continuing and meeting my eyes with a slow raise of his own, "but with someone like you, I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" I asked, totally ignoring his question. I would have probably said yes right away if it hadn't been for his condescending manner.

"Honestly, Hanson, not everything is meant to insult you," he muttered. "I mean that she wouldn't have a problem with you going off on your own, so why should it matter if she went with you? You're responsible ... and so, if we went together, it would be easier to get everything in secret and what not." For once, I agreed with him, but I wasn't going to let him know that just yet.

"Hmmm ... well, I'm pretty sure she likes you more than she does me."

"You're missing my point," he said, sounding impatient now.

"I understand your point clearly, Riddle. I was just _pointing_ out that-"

"Do you want to come with me or not? I was going to go as soon as we got our letters." I sighed and nodded. "Right," he said and turned and started for the stairs.

"Riddle?" I called. He paused and turned toward me, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes?"

"How _do_ we get our letters? I mean, being in a orphanage we can't receive them by-"

"Owls?" he finished. Ugh, when would he stop interrupting me? I found it so rude.

"Yes."

"Dumbledore comes and gives them to us," he said simply, and turned around and marched up the stairs. I heard his door close gently and then looked around me. Dumbledore came here? I supposed this made more sense than having someone else, as Mrs. Cole knew the basis of who he was, but at the same time, didn't she find him ... wizard-like? He was probably the most magical looking professor at Hogwarts, and his appearance matched those described by Muggle authors in the books I had read over the past two weeks. I frowned and made my own way up the stairs and to my room, making sure I closed my door this time. What the bloody Hell had jut happened, anyway? I had had a partially civil conversation with the school's most snotty boy, and agreed to go shopping in Diagon Alley with him in five weeks' time. What would become of this, I didn't know, but I did know I didn't feel comfortable with it. He was a strange boy, and probably capable of more things than some of the teachers at Hogwarts. I sat on the edge of my bed and thought about this. If I could, I would have probably sent Tonia an owl. The again, if I wasn't here I wouldn't be in this situation.

So, Diagon Alley with Riddle it was. Whether I liked it, or not.

~SsS~

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I hoped you liked Chapter One. I didn't know where to go with it yet, but I want to get them together a lot because everyone loves Tom (who doesn't? He's so sexy :P), and the story would suck without him. Reviews are welcome ... Thanks! XOXO, xXx-Voldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXx. **


	3. 2 Do Think Twice

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So thank your to everyone who read my prevous chapter and reviewed. My thanks especially goes out to psychotic luv, and Gelassenheit. :) I know the spelling and stuff was pretty bad, but it was because I was in a hurry to get it up for you guys. Anyway, I hope this one will be better and I'll try to make it longer too. Enjoy :) Read and review?**

Chapter Two

Do Think Twice

~SsS~

I awoke to the bright morning sun in my eyes, the colour red against my closed eyelids. I squeezed them tight before opening them and bracing myself for the blinding light. The rain had finally stopped and we were graced with a sunny day for once. I smiled and stretched before stepping out of bed, slipping my slippers on and wrapping my dark green robe around my body. I was usually one of the late risers which meant I could take as long as I liked in the showers. Unless of course it was cleaning day, then we were all up early and limited to five or ten minutes. I padded over to the bathroom down the hallway, my ears perking up to the sound of children already laughing and playing with one another. I noticed Tom was in his room with his door shut and most likely locked, too. If he was awake or not, I wasn't sure.

* * *

><p>The bathroom in the orphanage always smelled like baby powder and flowers. There was a bath tub - I had been told that you only got to soak in it when you were ill - and a shower beside it. The loos were separate, of course, with different stalls for privacy just like at school, and the boys' and girls' toilets were separated. I kicked off my slippers and stripped down and stepped in the shower, waiting until the water got nice and warm before I began to wash. I kept my shower short so I was down in the kitchen at a decent time, and just caught the end of breakfast. The only occupants at the dinner table were Sadie and Marcus - twins. They were eight years old with blonde hair and freckled faces. Their noses were small, too, like they had been pushed in when they were babies. I smiled and nodded to them, to which they returned equally toothy grins and giggled with each other. I took a glass of orange juice that was laid out on the table by the chef, Steve, and took a sip. I much preferred pumpkin juice...<p>

* * *

><p>Thinking of pumpkin juice and the delicious breakfasts at home and Hogwarts, I suddenly remembered my deal with Tom, who now had made an appearance. He sauntered over from the bottom step, stifling Sadie and Marcus's giggles and sending them diving into their oatmeal bowls, stuffing their faces to keep busy. I frowned. Did Tom really have that effect on these children? It shouldn't have surprised me. Despite his polite demeanour when talking to others, I was sure even a baby could tell a dark force followed him around.<p>

"Morning Mr. Riddle!" one boy yelled as he ran past and out of the front door, followed by his friend. They were always outside...

"Mr. Riddle?" I muttered under my breath. It did not go unnoticed by Tom.

"That would be my surname," he drawled, buttering himself some toast. I glared.

"Thanks, I never would have guessed." He nodded as if I was serious and then remained silence, his mouth set in a tight line as always, his eyes fixed on what ever he was focusing on. I was glad it was the bread getting the glare and not me. Why was he so rude? It wasn't as if I had done anything wrong, and I wasn't exactly speaking to him, either. It was his fault for thinking everything revolved around him...

"Next Saturday," Tom said suddenly. I looked at him like he was mad.

"What are you on about?"

"Shopping. Next Saturday, Hanson." Oh, right. Well, I guess it was an okay day. But hadn't he said we'd go in five weeks?

"You said-"

"In five weeks. I think I know what I said. It was only a few days ago." I glared. Honestly, he was going to give me early frown lines.

"Would you stop interrupting me? It's rude," I snapped, walking over and putting my glass in the sink.

"Why? I know what you're going to say, anyway, so why waste your breath?" I stared at him incredulously. How did that even make sense? First of all, he couldn't read minds as far as I knew. Secondly, I could have an important question.

"Fine, what ever," I said. "But why so soon?" Sadie and Marcus seemed to have finished their oatmeal; I looked over in their direction and they were both gone.

"Because. We can get the best supplies and not have to worry about anything being out of stock," Tom replied. He set his stare on me now and I fidgeted uncomfortably. I really had to spend a whole day alone with him? In such a place as Diagon Alley ... Well, that wasn't the worst part. At least that place was always swamped with witches and wizards. Knocturn Alley, on the other hand seemed just like his place to go. I froze for a moment as my mind played possible scenarios in my head, such as being dragged into some shop where they tortured you until you bought their products. Or a book store, perhaps, that had books that would turn into some form of monster and attack you as soon as you looked at it. _Monster Book of Monsters_, I thought, and then turned to look up at Tom. He wouldn't do that to me, right? I mean, he _was_ a student after all.… He had probably only shot a few hexes at students, but they most likely deserved it...

"So," he continued, looking at me as though I was some strange alien creature. I hadn't noticed my hands clutching the edges of the counter top behind me. I let go and felt my face start to burn and turned around to wash my hands for no reason but to busy myself with something.

"So?" I asked, my voice higher than usual. I swallowed and turned off the tap, drying my hands on the nearest towel. I cleared my throat and said, "so what?" in my normal voice. I saw him smirk and drum his long, pale fingers on the table.

"So are you still coming?" I nodded quickly, noting the impatience in his voice. His smirk faded and I wondered if he was disappointed.

"Right," he said and added, "we'll stop at Gringott's first, because I hate going there and I won't stop in the middle of getting what we need." I felt rather insulted for some reason. My parents weren't poor; we had money, if not a small fortune. Was he implying that I had insufficient funds? My glare returned.

"Obviously, Riddle, what would be the point in that other than wasting time?" I made sure to add some extra ice to my tone, hoping to get a rise out of him, but was only rewarded with a dark chuckle.

"Just reminding you, Hanson. Wouldn't want you to show up and expect someone to buy everything for you." He smirked as my jaw dropped and I instinctively reached for my wand that wasn't there (I had packed it away safely in my room), ready to jinx him.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said in an taunting tone. "Not in present company."

"No one is PRESENT, Riddle," I seethed. His smirk grew to a condescending grin, his eyes lighting up with a malicious glint.

"Not yet. You know, these kids have a tendency to pop out of no where." I huffed and stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep from lashing out. I was sure I was overreacting. Either that, or I was finally cracking; the only conversations I had had recently were with three to four year olds, Mrs. Cole (who was too sweet to really have a discussion about anything worthwhile), or this nutter. I wished I could have owled Rayne. Only a few more weeks, I told myself.

"Yeah, because they're totally going to come in here when you're here," I countered, standing up straight to try and match his height. He still towered over me.

"Dare to elaborate, Hanson?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice, his eyes flashing. "Please, humour me." I took this as my queue to either leave or be quiet.

"It's not worth my time," I said, and turned to walk out when a cold hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Despite what he had said, I came face to face with a yew wand, the tip poised on my nose. Gasping, I stumbled backward and grabbed the counter to steady myself.

"You should be careful, Hanson," he hissed, his eyes boring into mine. "Words are often the fault of consequences, and you're very much headed in that direction." We stayed there for a moment, me being too shaken to move, and Tom looking like he was debating on giving me that consequence. It felt like several minutes had passed until we heard the familiar sound of Mrs. Cole coming down the hallway. Tom drew back and forced his wand back into his pocket, pulling his sweater over his pocket. Before I knew what was happening, he was talking to me like nothing happened.

"So like I said, Clarice, I really do think you have a knack for art," said Tom as though in polite conversation. I stared disbelievingly at him and forced my jaw shut as Mrs. Cole came into view.

"Oh, good morning Tom, Clarice." Tom shot her a pleasant, and what was supposed to be a charming smile, but I only saw deceit.

"Good to see you, Mrs. Cole," said Tom. "I was just telling Clarice she should apply for the art classes at our school. Have you _seen_ her drawings?" Mrs. Cole had to be the stupidest woman I knew. She fell for everything! Even when the children lied to her about breaking things. "It was the wind," they'd say.

"Is that so?" she said, smiling at me. I looked at Tom and saw his warning look. I felt forced to nod and fake a smile.

"Oh yes, ever since I was a child," I said, shooting a pointed look at Tom who merely smiled at me, his fingers tucked into his wand pocket. Mrs. Cole chuckled.

"I'd very much like to see them sometime, Clarice, but right now I'm afraid little Johnny's fallen ill with the flu. Will you excuse me?" she said, winding her way through Tom and I. "Oh, and do feel free to help yourself to breakfast if you haven't already eaten," she added, and slipped around the corner. I turned on Tom who looked very smug and pleased with himself.

"Do think twice about what you say," he said, tapping his pocket as if to remind me of what could happen if I didn't keep my mouth shut in the future. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a book I'd like to finish." With that, he walked around me and up the stairs, leaving me seething. I had received a threat, but really, that was the worse he could do. Right?

~SsS~

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I hoped you guys liked it. I'll have them go to Diagon Alley either in the next chapter or the one after that. I just thought that having them banter was the only place I could go with this story at the moment, as I didn't want it to go too fast. I'm still working on the plot so I'll be able to get more ideas soon. I really liked this chapter though ... it was fun to write ... Remember, critism is always welcome ... that comes reviews, people, ;) Thanks for reading! XOXO xXx-Voldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXX **


	4. Author

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I am so sorry for not updating. I'm starting to study for final exams, so it's going to be a while before I post the next chapter, but don't worry I'm not abandoning this story. Also, please keep an eye out for the next chapter in "The Prince's Captive". I'm going to be working on the next chapter for that too. Thank you! XOXO xXx-Voldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXx


	5. 3 Of Plans and a Book for Tom

Author's Note: I've decided to write this chapter in Tom's P.O.V. And no, I will not be re-writing it in Clarice's perspective as I hate when I have to read that - I find it terribly redudant. Also, do not complain if you do not like the format of my writing. This is how I write, and I organize things into to types of paragraphs ... I will, however, try to make them shorter. Now, I apologize for the wait. I've been on summer holidays for three weeks now and I know, I've been procastinating. But, come on, I just finished school, I wanted a break before I started using my bain again. I hope you all are having a great summer so far, as well. Also, I've added a disclaimer because I forgot to do that for the past three chapters. I thank all those who have reviewed this story, and my plot bunnies would like more to, erm, inspire them ;) Alright, now off with chapter three!

ALSO! This is IMPORTANT! I have decided to change the plot a little. While the murder Clarice's parents were blamed for is still the reason for her being in the orphange, I've decided that for reasons related to my plot line, it would be easier if Tom grew overly obsessive and possesive of Clarice. I'm not telling anything else. I just hope that my story still seems appealing to everyone that reads it. Thank you so much!

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I do not own Harry Potter. Everything belongs to their respective owner, the amazing J.K. Rowling, except for Clarice as she is my Own Character. Still, half of her is part of J.K. Rowling's, because ... if it wasn't for her, then Clarice would probably never exist in this story. That is all. Crookshanks has now stolen my tongue and replaced it with a Quick-Quotes Quill to write the story... *Holds up sign that says: "I'M ALSO NOT MAKING ANY MONEY OFF OF THIS STORY!"*.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three <span>

Of Plans and a Book for Tom

Behind closed doors was the only time Tom felt at home in this orphanage. Here he was able to be himself, his scheming, evil self while he prattled around with various books he had checked out from the Hogwarts library for the summer. Of course, "checking them out" had meant taking them from the Restricted Section without anyone else's knowledge. Had they known the books Tom was interested in, he was sure they would send him off somewhere. Either that or keep a closer watch on him than they already did. How annoying it was to be given strange looks or asked silly questions everytime he past a teacher. Could he not merely give them a nod or a "hello professor," and be done with it? Not with Dumbledore around. _What a naive man, _thought Tom as he placed _Magick Moste Evil_ on his bedside table. There was nothing in there he had not heard or read about before. That is, alas, until he came across the word "Horcrux". It utterly perplexed him and he had spent countless hours after finishing the book flipping through over and over, trying to see if he had missed any information about this word. He even checked the index at the back of the book, but there was nothing about it. Finally, he resorted to a charm he thought useless, and with big hopes, thought it could prove itself to him.

"_Reveal your secrets_," Tom whispered for the fifth time that night. He checked the clock in his room with weary eyes. Oh how he wished to close his eyes and forget about the book for the night. But no, he had to figure this out. If he let the word slip his memory, he may never find out what these Horcruxes were about. Annoyed now, he whispered it once more and violently flipped through the book. If he didn't look mad enough, a flash of lighting illuminated the background and the roll of thunder allowed him to growl loudly in frustration with no one hearing him.

"Bloody authors," he muttered aloud, tossing the book off his bed, making it land on its backside and opening to the very page with the magical artifact in question. If he just had a little bit more information about it, maybe he wouldn't feel so crazed. What was it that it had said? "...The only thing capable of keeping said dark wizard or witch alive and immortal, is a Horcrux. These powerful magical artifacts have the power to keep a fatally injured sorcerer alive until someone destroys the Horcrux." It was maddening! He felt like burning the book, and the author, for causing him this inconvience. If only...

Ah! He knew exactly how he would get more information on this. Of course! How silly of him to not think of it earlier! Hanson and him were going to Diagon Alley the very next morning. If he managed to get away from her for a few moments, he could sneak away to Knocturn Alley if he didn't find anything about Horcruxes in Flourish and Blotts. While it wasn't a very good plan, he knew it was all he had for the remaining few weeks until he got back to Hogwarts. With this thought in mind, he swooped down and picked the book up to secure it in his drawer along with his wand and quills and the black diary he so often wrote in. It had been a birthday gift from Mrs. Cole in his first year, and because he had ways of making the pages last longer with simple charms, it had lasted him all the way to his sixth. At first, he had thought about burning the book, the thought of writing about your days to him was a sign of weakness. But he found it was useful for other things, such as working out future plans or creating spells. No one knew about it. And if they did, he was sure they thought it was a notebook to copy things down in class. No one dared to make fun of him. If they did, he'd deal with them in ... the appropriate manner.

~S~

The next morning, everything seemed to be taking agonizingly long as Tom waited for Hanson in the living room. He hadn't gotten a very good sleep the previous night, so he had low patience. Honestly, it had been fourty five mintues since he had told that girl to start getting ready. Did she not have a sense of time? Or courtesy, perhaps? Tom had things to do after, and the day definitely wasn't getting any longer. He was just about to go up there and tell her he was leaving on his own, when she came bounding down the stairs in a frilly pink dress, her blonde hair wavy and bouncy as ever. Tom felt sick just looking at her. He was supposed to be seen in public with this girl? Against his black appearal, she looked like the Muggle in a group of wizards and witches. She just didn't belong.

"Hi," she said happily, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Sorry, I'm not fast at doing things the Muggle way, I would've taken less-"

"Let's just go," Tom cut her off, gesturing to the door. Clarice looked taken aback as she bit her lip and looked down. The chit was obviously used to being listened to in her family and group of friends.

"Sure," she said, sounding less excited than she had before. This pleased Tom. Maybe she wouldn't talk as much as she usually did. He opened the door for her and then stepped out after, closing it with a satisfying *bang*. He fell in stride with Clarice, but walked as though she wasn't even there.

"Do ... Do you Apparate?" Clarice asked.

"No," said Tom, still staring straight ahead.

"Then .. How are we getting there?"

"We're in London, aren't we?" Tom snapped, his patience already wearing dangerously lower than it had been before.

"Well yes, but-"

"Then we'll walk to the Leaky Culdron," he said stiffly. "Please excuse me, I don't have some sort of Ministry car, Hanson," he added with a touch of menace. There was a silence, so he looked down at the girl beside him. She glared, looking straight ahead like he had been doing before.

"It was just a question, Riddle, you don't have to be so rude." She turned the glare on him now, and for some reason it turned his into an amused smile. He could get to her, Tom realized. He could get inside of her, annoy her. Insult her, make her angry. The negative attitude caused a positive one to spark in him. He could ... hurt her.

"A question that needn't be asked, Hanson. If you haven't noticed for the past five years, Diagon Alley is here. I don't suppose I could blame that on your blood status, could I?" he growled. She flinched. Oh yes, some pureblood she was.

"Shut it, Riddle," was her only repsonse. Tom smiled with victory and thought of saying "no" but decided it wasn't worth wasting his breath.

They walked together in silence, Clarice looking as though she was enjoying herself. She seemed to take an intrest in the many statues that stood erect in different parts of the city, and when they walked through St. James's park, her eyes popped at the huge flocks of pigeons gathered around together. Tom admitted to himself that he had taken a few glances at her, but only because he was contemplating different things each time.

"Are there always that many birds?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. He cocked an eyebrow. She had obviously only been to the part of London that the Leaky Culdron was at.

"I would say so," Tom drawled, wondering why it was such a big deal to her. Honestly, they were just birds.

"I've never seen so many," said Clarice. "We only get the odd blue bird or raven around my house..."

"I see," said Tom, not really paying attention. He didn't actually mind her talking, as long as he didn't have to say anything back.

"We live in a town called Bath," she carried on. "It's a silly name ... Actually, when I first told my friends where I was from, they asked if everyone was exceptionally clean there." Tom chuckled at this, rather amused at her friends' daftness. He found it funny that they atuomatically thought a town was named for the levels of people's hygene.

"Are they really that dim?" he asked, looking down at her, pretending to be interested in her story.

"Well, no, actually they're all quite intelligent. Tom, you shouldn't ... make prejudgments like you do. They weren't serious, they were joking." Tom smirked and then turned his head back to look ahead. _Shame_, he thought, _they could have all been easy to trick_.

"So, are we almost there?" she asked. Tom nodded. Just a few more blocks. He looked down and immediately figured out she didn't walk much. He realized this could be a problem and quickly devised a plan.

"Would you like to stop for something to eat before we get started on our shopping?" he asked. She smiled and nodded. "But we shouldn't take too long. Mrs. Cole wants us back by six o'clock." She nodded again.

"I'm not picky," she said. "We'll just eat at the Leaky Culdron?"

"That's the general idea," he said, nodding. They fell silent as they rounded the corner and entered the market. People were milling about, some stopping at various street preformers and tossing them Muggle change. Tom found it hard to believe they wasted their money on something like that. These people weren't even very good at what they were doing. Clarice then suddenly proved that he thought she might had bad taste in such things.

"Oh, he's good! Listen to his voice," she gushed, smiling at a male singer they passed. The man gave her a smile and winked playfully at her while belting out his song. Tom rolled his eyes.

"Sure," he said. "If you like listening to cats being murdered." Clarice gave him a reproving look.

"That's so rude!" she exclaimed. Tom shrugged and kept walking. He passed a women selling some fruit and ignored her when he got asked if he'd like to try an apple. Clarice, on the other hand, looked confused as to why he turned down the nice fruit and took a nice, shiny red one.

"Don't eat that," Tom muttered. She looked at him, confused.

"Why not? It's a gorgeous apple, and I bet it tastes even better." Tom looked down at her.

"Don't eat it, I said." Clarice shook her head.

"Don't tell me what to do-" she started, but glared when Tom stopped her and grabbed the apple from her hand.

"That woman? Dark witch. You know how I know?" he asked. Clarice shook her head and tried to grab back her apple. Tom pulled his hand out of her reach. "I saw her on the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ last year. She was all over it for killing Muggles. I suggest you forget about your apple, because I can bet you it's laced with the Draught of the Living Dead. You don't know how wizards and witches like that minds work." She nodded, looking rather alarmed that she had nearly been killed. Tom dropped the apple, letting it roll down the cobblestone road.

"Don't drop it! Someone will eat it," she exclaimed. Tom rolled his eyes.

"No one's desperate enough to pick an apple up from the ground. Not if they're down here, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean these stores aren't for rags, they're for riches," he replied simply. Clarice nodded, seeming to understand. They turned into the building that was marked as "The Leaky Culdron", but to Muggles, it looked as though they were walking down a dark alley. Of course, that is what would happen to a Muggle if they went down there, but it would only bring them out to another street.

Inside, Tom sighed when he took in the scene. It was half noon and people were already drunk; some women were already hitting on the men who were too liquored to act any more decent than to say "yes" to a quick one. It only got like this on days when the older bar tender worked. Over the years, Tom had noticed that he fell asleep. Either that, he was just too lazy to anything about the place. He liked it when the other bar tender worked. Ironically, his name was Tom as well. He was a young fellow, and had inherited the bar from his grandfather.

"Well, pick a table," said Tom. Clarice shook her head. "And why not?" said Tom. "Haven't you been in here before?" How could that be? She was a Pureblood witch!

"No, my parents and I have always Flooed straight to Diagon Alley." She stood rigid in the doorway, looking around at the crazy people. "Can't we eat somewhere else?"

"Unless you count ice cream as a meal, then no," said Tom, thinking of the ice cream shop in the Diagon Alley. Clarice blinked a few times and then nodded. Tom turned around and started toward the counter where the bar tender was asleep in his chair and an elderly witch stood, ready to serve.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To order. What would you like?"

"Just ... Soup?"

"What kind?" he asked, impatient now.

"Which ever you know is good." He laughed at this; nothing tasted very good here.

"Chicken soup ... Does that sound alright?" She nodded. "Go get the table by the window, it's less crowded there," he said quietly, knowing she felt uncomfortable. She nodded and went to sit down while he stepped up to the counter and ordered their food. He decided to be safe and got the same as she did, with two goblets of pumpkin juice to drink. Then, with a floating charm, he directed their tray to their table and sat down across from her. They ate quietly, both not knowing really what to say.

"Thank you," clarice said suddenly after taking a sip from her drink.

"For what?" asked Tom, pausing to give her a strange look.

"For, erm, saving my life back there..." Tom smirked. That usually wasn't something he would have done, but it would have looked suspicious if he had come back with no Clarice.

"Not a problem?" he said, making it sound like a question. "I wasn't about to let you drop dead, you know. Mrs. Cole would have killed me," he said, making a small attempt at humour. She smiled lightly.

"I know," she laughed. Tom smiled, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Clarice fidgeted and Tom gave her a look. Was it because she didn't like not talking? She seemed like the type of girl who always needed a conversation or she was uncomfortable or felt awkward.

"Is it always like this in here?" she asked. Tom shook his head.

"Only when this half-wit works," he said.

"Tom! He's just an old man," she whispered. Tom shrugged.

"So? An old man who's been given a job, so he should do well to preform it right." This made her go quiet. "Besides, he's going to earn the money either way. The other man isn't that strict on his workers, only the rules of the place. It'd probably be an embarassment for him if he walked through those doors right now," he added.

"Who is he?" Clarice wondered.

"His name is Tom." She laughed, throwing her head back. What was so funny? Just because Tom and Tom had the same name, didn't mean it was funny. He shrugged again, and carried on with his lunch. Clarice went quiet once more, and Tom could tell that by the look on her face, she felt dissapointed he hadn't carried on the conversation. It wasn't his fault, though. He was more concerned with whether or not he would find any books on Horcruxes, what ever they were.

"Ready to go?" he asked when he was finished. She wasn't really eating her soup, just stirring it with her spoon.

"Erm, yeah," she said, looking up. Tom stood up and then hesitated. She hadn't eaten anything, which probably meant she didn't like the soup and was still hungry.

"I can get you something else if you'd like," he said, gesturing to her soup. "It's not much better than anything else, though." Clarice shook her head.

"No, that's alright, but thank you." She stood up just as he did and then suggested they get an ice cream later at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Tom agreed to this, but only because he thought that by getting her something she wanted, he'd be able to get her to come to Knockturn Alley with him. But even if she didn't, he'd pay for her ice cream and go while she ate it there. She'd be safe, so it's not like he'd have to worry. Florean was a nice man and was capable of keeping his customers and happy and under control. And it wasn't like Tom was the safest person to be with either, so what did it matter? She was probably safer without him...

They walked out together and Tom headed straight for Flourish and Blotts until Clarice stopped him. "Why don't we get our robes first? I mean, we're right here." Tom looked at her.

"That takes the longest," he countered. "We should get our-"

"I always go in order of the stores with my parents," she interrupted. How dare she? Oh, the audacity of this girl! He felt his hand grip his wand tight in his pocket, feeling ready to hex her into the next life. He stopped and took a breath, trying to consider this. If he harmed her, people would see, and Mrs. Cole would definitely send him to the doctors like she so often threatened. No. He had to act like he was nice and cared about Clarice. Like she was a friend. When really, in reality, it was because of his actions she was there with him in that moment... He pushed the memory and thoughts from his head. She couldn't find out...

"Fine," he snapped. "Go get your robes, I'll wait for you." She smiled at him and walked into Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, Tom following behind her, his anger boiling. He always got his way, and if someone ruined it for him, a simple wand waving and use of horrendous spells was his only resolve. It was killing him; she was so unsuspecting, with her back turned and talking lively to the shop owner, the excitment in her voice as she got new clothes. Oh, he wanted to curse her, throw a hex at her and walk out to get his book now! How Tom loathed it all; how much he wished to wipe that pretty smile off her face and give her a taste of reality. A cruel smile spread across his face as he watched her, standing on the pedistol, her arms up over her head as her wasit was measured. Oh yes, her parents got the reality check, and so would she. ~S~

"Do you need anything from the Owl Emporium?" Tom asked, feining concern as they passed Eyelope's Owl Emporium on their way to Flourish and Blotts - _finally_. He could barely contain his excitement! How close he was to figuring out this mystery he had discovered yesterday. Or, so he hoped.

"No, I don't have my owl anymore. The Ministry took him away when I came here," she said, looking downcast. Tom looked at her as sympathetic as he could.

"I'm so sorry," he said half-heartedly.

"Thanks, but it's okay..."

"Any chance you'll get him back?" he asked, making sure to lead her to the book store and away from a stand of jewerly.

"I'm not sure. I hope so, I miss him. His name is Zues, because he liked lightning. I found that out on the first night I brought him home."

"Huh," said Tom, nodding. "Intruiging." They approached the shop and he gripped the door handle fast before it closed behind two people who had just gone in. "Ladies first," he said, nodding to Clarice. She smiled and muttered a "thanks" as she entered the shop, Tom behind her. It didn't take long for them to get their books. All the nessicary text books sat on a stand right front and centre. Tom offered to carry Clarice's in his bag, since hers looked heavy enough already with her new robes and other books she had taken an interest in.

"Oh, I can, it's really alright-"

"I insist," said Tom, making sure to play the part of a gentleman right. She sighed and waved her hand, letting him do what he pleased.

"Thank you..." she said said, giving him a smile. He smiled, but it felt so foreign on his face. He made it fade as fast as possible.

"Wait here? I have to ... check something." Before she could say anything else, Tom turned on his heel and made his way to the back of the store where he new the more mature books or dark magic books were kept.

"Excuse me, young man," a tall witch called. "Are you old enough to be back here?" Tom smirked.

"Do I look like I am? Of course I'm not, I'm just curious." She gave him a suspicious look and shook her head.

"I can't allow you back here. Only wizards of age-"

"If you don't mind, I'm capable of telling which books I'm old enough to read, ma'am. Now, excuse me." With that, he pushed passed her, leaving her looking stunned and seriously insulted. Chuckling to himself, Tom passed the more advanced potions books and went to the shelf labelled "Dark Arts". Underneath, there was a warning that read, _Witches and wizards, readers beware, these books contain elements that will stick up your hair_. Rolling his eyes, Tom began searching for the right book and immediately could tell he wasn't coming into any luck. He picked one up that was called _Beguiling the Blind: your ultimate guide to misleading your foes_ purely to humour himself. Flipping through, he read a little of what was in it. It sounded like something that contained hexes and curses that were only temporary when wanting to go behind one's back, or trick them into doing something you wanted. He sighed and put the book back on the shelf and searched one more time, picking up various books and flipping the pages, his eyes scanning almost every page for the word "Horcrux" and became frustrated when he didn't see it once. Deciding he was taking too long and Clarice would begin wondering, he grabbed "Beguiling the Blind" and walked out. The lady tried to stop him, asking to see what he had in his hand, but he merely nodded and waved to her as he went to pay for his books.

"Where did you go?" Clarice asked, taking her money out. Tom thought about paying for her, but then figured that would be pushing the whole trust thing.

"I had to get a book for an extra class, and I couldn't find it right away," he lied. She bought it easily as she set her money down on the counter.

"Oh," she said. Tom nodded with an "mhm" and stepped up to pay.

"Find everything all right, sir?" the wizard asked.

"Yes, thank you," he replied. The wizard picked up the book he had found at the back and gave him a look as he added it to his pile and handed Tom everything.

"Have a nice day," he said. Tom smirked and put his and Clarice's books in his bag.

"We will," he replied in a dark tone. The wizard narrowed his eyes and looked at Clarice.

"You be careful, miss. Wouldn't want to see such a lovely face harmed." Then, with a fleeting glance at Tom, he disappeared behind a curtain and into the back of the store. Clarice looked perplexed, and when she opened her mouth to ask, Tom grabbed her by the crook of her arm and pulled her out of the store.

"Ready for that ice cream?" he asked through gritted teeth. He let her go and placed a pale hand on the small of her back, leading her to Florean Fortescue's.

"Tom-"

"Come on, it's delicious." He gave her a look and she went quiet, clearly knowing something was up at Flourish and Blotts. They got their ice cream and ate in silence, Tom keeping his eye on the book store across the street. He expected a bunch of the workers to come after him. He had illegally bought a book that wasn't for under aged wizards. But of course, they'd be completely mad to do anything about it. Tom wasn't afraid to hurt them.

~S~

"Thanks again," Clarice said that evening as they walked back to the orphanage. Tom nodded.

"Would have had to go anyhow," he said, shrugging. "You just happened to be there so, naturally, it made more sense to take you with." He glanced at her from the side and could tell immediately she was disappointed it was nothing more but than something he would have done with anyone.

"That makes sense," she said, trying to sound happy. Tom nodded, and opened the front door for her. They stepped inside and were immediately greeted by Mrs. Cole.

"Back right on time! Dinner's ready," she said, taking their bags for them. Tom knew it was fine; she had tried to look inside his in his first year, but his immediate reaction had told her to never do it again.

"Don't do that it, it's rude!" he had scolded, standing up fast and roughly snatching his things back. The surprised look on her face hadn't faded as he stamped up the stairs and given her glares for the rest of the evening. She was really a whimp for a Matron, thought Tom.

"Have you eaten, dears?" Mrs. Cole asked, bring Tom out of his reverie.

"Oh, yes," said Clarice, smiling politly. Tom nodded without emotion.

"So we won't be joining you for dinner," he said simply. Clarice looked at him as if he had just told Dumbledore he was the worst wizard on the planet.

"Alright," said Mrs. Cole. She smiled and then turned to take their things up to their rooms for them. Tom turned to Clarice.

"You can eat you know, if you're still hungry. She won't mind," he said, sitting down on a chair. Clarice shrugged.

"Ice cream's rather filling," she said with a laughed. Tom smiled as politely as he could. They fell into a silence.

"Tom?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"What - what went on with you and that man at Flourish and Blotts?" she asked, looking concerned. Tom rose to his feet and towered over her for a moment, giving her a look that sparked fear within her blue eyes.

"That's not really your concern, is it Hanson?" He nodded to her. "Good night." He waited for a moment before crossing his arms behind his back and taking his leave.

Once in his bedroom, he lay on his bed and thought of the girl downstairs. Of course she would be curious. She was so happy-go-lucky, and shopping with him this year instead of her parents was a definite change. Oh the strange, worried look that had crossed her face just moments ago. She knew he was up to something, and if she found out, he'd have to make sure she didn't tell. What ever that took, he was postive it wouldn't be too hard.

~S~

Author's Note: Well, it seems that Tom has a few tricks up his sleeves, hmm? I know he found out about the Hocruxes at school, but I didn't know how to make the trip to Diagon Alley really any more interesting. It was fun to write like Tom, but I would like to see how you liked it! Also, _Beguiling the Blind: your ultimate guide to misleading your foes_ is my own title :) Review? Thanks!


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